


lights will guide you home

by Lulzy (likelolwhat)



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Feels, Author Is Not Religious, Death, Gen, Religious Content, Sciropescire Arc, Spoilers, Tags Contain Spoilers, finished this arc last night and welp I had feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:54:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27845578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likelolwhat/pseuds/Lulzy
Summary: SPOILERS FOR THE WHOLE SCIROPESCIRE ARCHe was betrayed, and he'll never knowwhy.
Comments: 15
Kudos: 37





	lights will guide you home

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't read if you mind spoilers/haven't completed the whole Sciropescire arc (including "King Killer").
> 
> Title's from Coldplay, for lack of any other ideas. I wrote this in the space of an hour and a half (very fast for me). As a side note I'm not religious at all so it was an experience writing a deeply religious character like this.

The chill that crept up his limbs wasn’t just from the cave, though it was cold, or the steady drip of water from the stalactite above. It wasn’t just from the howling of the wolves drawn by his blood-scent. It wasn’t even just from the knowledge that he was going to die here, alone, and may not ever be found.

He was betrayed, and he’ll never know _why_. He’d thought of Ivarr as a crazy uncle. The man was unhinged — murdering Rhodri’s brother was neither the beginning nor the end — but to do this?

The wolves howled again. They couldn’t reach him, sealed in this cave turned tomb, but their song was no comfort or balm to the seeping of blood from his side.

He only noticed that the howls had cut off when the scraping of stone on stone echoed through the chamber. Drifting in and out, he only recognized the footsteps as footsteps when Eivor had knelt beside him, swearing an oath to one of her gods.

Was she a hallucination? A comfort from God in his final moments? He tried to ask, but all that came out was a broken moan.

“Ceolbert! You live!” She swam into focus, and no, she was very much real. Somehow she had found him in time— in time for him to tell her—

With what felt like the last of his strength he reached for the dagger still lodged in his side. _Ivarr did this. He stabbed me. Be careful, Eivor…_ But his tongue tangled in his mouth. “I, oh…”

She shook her head. “Stay quiet. You are badly hurt.” She tugged the dagger from his flesh and— while it didn’t hurt any worse than he’d been hurting all along, more blood gushed from the unplugged wound.

He almost missed her examining the dagger, the rage blooming on her ever-stoic face. He knew that crest well, and suddenly all Ivarr had done made a twisted sense. He wanted to cry. _Don’t be fooled, Eivor. Please. Stay strong, don’t let him destroy the peace we’ve made…_

Eivor murmured something to him, something about saying his goodbyes — and oh, the pain at that was eclipsed completely by the white-hot agony when she lifted him and slung him over her broad shoulders.

He thought he wouldn’t come back, but he did, dragged into the land of the living again as his rescuer, his friend slid under a low opening in the stone and the bright afternoon sun filtered through his heavy eyelids. He tried again to speak, dredging up strength he hadn’t known he still, or ever, possessed. Again he tried to warn her, may have succeeded if she didn’t shush him.

“We’ll soon be among friends, Ceolbert.”

He sighed, and it turned into a moan. But… friends… And Ivarr had been a friend, brash and unpredictable as he was. That mind that turned on a whim had decided to treat him — his opposite in many ways — like a son… until he didn’t. That he wanted to exact his revenge so badly that he became blind to all else? That he was human, with human failings? Wasn’t that what God was for?

And who was he that he would condemn Ivarr, when God would see it right?

Commotion around him — Eivor’s voice rose above the rest, but he couldn’t make out the words — and then he was on solid earth once more.

He ignored the voices, forcing his eyes to open and stay open, though they were so heavy and he just wanted to rest. Eivor was crouched over him, holding his wound closed — though he couldn’t feel her hands, couldn’t feel much of anything. The Danes of their war-band, gathered in a circle, faces drawn and grave.

Then— his vision swam and Ivarr was there, sliding one hand under his head and shouting at him and Eivor alike. The words no longer mattered.

He reached, and Ivarr caught his hand, looking at him with something like sorrow in those mad eyes. He reached with the other hand, but he couldn’t…

“I-Ivarr…” _I forgive you._

Ivarr looked away.

**Author's Note:**

> No, I don't agree with Ceolbert. In-game I denied that fucker Valhalla. I was prepared to wash my hands of him until he killed my boy.


End file.
